


By Your Command

by nayanroo



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon-Typical Violence, Kylux 2016 May Fic Exchange, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nayanroo/pseuds/nayanroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he is named Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Arkanis, the ruler of the First Order sends Alaric Hux a gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Your Command

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silveriris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveriris/gifts).



> Done for the Kylux Fic Exchange in May 2016. Hope that you like it, recipient!!!

“...and it is by this order that we bestow upon Alaric, first son of our House, the title of Crown Prince.”

The hall resounded with applause as King Brendol I lifted a thin gold circlet off a cushion held by one of the delegations from His Imperial Majesty Snoke, holding it up briefly to catch the light and then placing it upon the head of his son. Alaric Hux, now Crown Prince, stared at the tips of his father's boots and kept his expression carefully neutral.

“In addition, His Imperial Majesty bestows upon the Crown Prince a gift, to guard his life, to serve with loyalty, and to offer counsel as asked.” This elicited a tide of whispers as the doors at the back of the hall were pulled open and a single set of footsteps rang in the sudden stillness. Hux rose, the new weight of the circlet on his head, and turned to see what could silence a whole hall.

A tall figure swathed in black was coming up the center aisle - _stalking_ up the center aisle, more like. Hux knew what this person was the moment he laid eyes on them, even though their clothes bore no insignia of any kind. Nobody could mistake a member of the Knights of Ren, those warriors trained to guard His Imperial Majesty from childhood. The Knights were sorcerer-warriors, trained in the mystic arts and swordsmanship, and feared throughout the entire Imperium. To his knowledge, King Brendol I had never had a Knight bestowed upon him. Hux was not sure if this was meant to be a mark of favor upon him, or something else entirely.

The Knight halted at the foot of the dais, then knelt, their black robe pooling around them like liquid shadow. The hilt of a huge sword glinted above one shoulder.

“I am here at the behest of His Imperial Majesty, Snoke, Ruler of the Imperium,” the Knight said. Through some sorcery their voice was masked, but it seemed to Hux to have a deep male quality to it. “I am to serve you, Crown Prince Alaric Hux, until such time as you ascend to your rightful place as King or until I am recalled to the Imperial Center by my master.”

Hux moved to the edge of the dais, considering this new player on his game board. The only loyalty a Knight of Ren knew was to their master, to Snoke himself. “What do I call you, Knight?” he asked. His voice seemed overloud. The Knight didn't move; even their breath was suppressed by the helmet.

“I am Kylo Ren.”

A ripple of whispering, and this time Hux understood it. For those who had news of the goings-on in the capital Imperium of the First Order, the name _Kylo Ren_ was known to them as the foremost of Snoke's Knights. Some said that he was to be the next Master of that mystic order, in fact. It should have seemed an honor to have this particular Knight sent to him, but Hux could not afford to think of it that way.

“I am grateful for this gift,” he said, measuring his words carefully, “And accept it gladly. Rise, Knight.”

Standing, he realized that Kylo Ren was the same height, despite that the dais was raised off the rest of the floor, and found himself looking into the Knight's eyes. Or at least, where they would be were they not covered by dark glass. Hux raised his chin enough so that it seemed he was looking down upon the Knight. A Crown Prince ought not seem to be of a level with those who weren't their equals.

“Let us all be glad of the generosity of His Imperial Majesty,” he said, his voice filling the hall. “Long may he reign.”

Those words were echoed throughout the hall, and the royal assembly filed out down the center. Whether it was deliberate or not, the Knight fell into step beside Hux as he followed his father. Hux clenched his jaw.

“Behind me, Knight,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth. “We are not equal.”

“By your command,” came the surprisingly soft reply, but the half-step behind felt more like the Knight granting him a favor than responding to an order. 

Hux seethed all the way to his father's receiving chambers. As a boy, Hux had felt a sickening sense of fear in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of being brought before the huge, carved wooden desk. Now, straight-backed and crowned, he told himself he did not fear looking into the eyes of Brendol I of the house of Hux.

His father sat behind the desk. “Leave us,” he told the Knight, who didn't move.

“I serve the Crown Prince,” he said, his modulated voice flat. “Not you, King Brendol.”

“Leave,” Hux hissed, hoping that his pale skin did not flush with displeasure; it would be too much here before his father. Without a word, Kylo Ren inclined his head slightly and swept from the room, bold enough to turn his back on the King as he walked out. The door shut, and Hux's father looked up at him.

“What in the seven hells did you do?” he snarled. “I sent you to the Imperial Center to learn, not for the Emperor to send one of his dogs here to watch you!”

“Do you suppose this Knight of Ren is meant to be a spy in our court?”

“I think it's a distinct possibility.” His father sighed, resting his elbows on his desk. “But it was wise to accept so publicly. None must find fault with our loyalty to the Order.”

“Are we not loyal?” Hux asked, carefully. His father had grown up in an era of war, of disparate kingdoms battling for supremacy over one another. Snoke had united them into the Imperium of the First Order, and while there were those who still fought for independence, they were beginning to fall one by one. He had to remind himself that his father's ideas were steeped in the old ways, and that the First Order was the path to greatness.

“We are. But a King ought not answer to anyone else above him, least of all one with such sorcerous ways as Snoke. Yet I cannot help acknowledging his power, and the prosperity it has brought us.” Brendol fell silent, considering his son. “Do not trust him too much. The Knights of Ren are each known for their mercurial natures, and as I have heard it, this Kylo Ren is the worst of them. It is said in the Center that he killed all those who lived in the town he grew up in, to grow his powers of sorcery, and having seen his handiwork firsthand, I would not be surprised. Mind your gift, Alaric. This dog ought to be kept on a very short leash.”

Kylo Ren was waiting outside when Hux emerged some time later, crouched down like some kind of gargoyle. He rose in a fluid motion and fell in half a step behind once again. It was disconcerting to have him there, being so _present_ and yet so silent that Hux had to suppress the urge to keep looking over his shoulder to check if Kylo Ren had left.

“Speak to a man named Mitaka,” he said as they turned down a corridor lit with the warmth of the afternoon sun and lined with portraits of previous scions of the royal house. “He'll assign you quarters with the officers—“

“That will not be acceptable.”

Hux stopped, feeling his face go hot again. He took three measured breaths, then a fourth for good measure, and turned to face his new shadow. “I beg your pardon.”

Kylo Ren tilted his head slightly, and Hux wished that he might see inside the mask, if only so he could tell that there was an actual person inside and this was not some kind of conjuration of Snoke's. “I am charged with protecting your life until such time as you ascend to your throne or my master releases me from this duty. I will therefore require closer quarters than those of the officers. For convenience.”

“The royal residences—“

“—will do nicely.”

“Do _not_ interrupt me,” Hux snapped. Ren fell silent, but Hux had the horrible impression that he was being smirked at behind the mask, and it only nettled him further. “You will be quartered with the officers and you will not complain about it.”

There was a long, pregnant pause. “By your command, then,” Kylo Ren said, and straightened.

“And you will show proper deference to me. If you are to serve me, then serve.”

“By your command.”

Somehow this only served to annoy him even more, and when he left Kylo Ren at the door to his apartments he went promptly to his bed, picked up a pillow, and screamed into it until he ran out of breath. When he was done, he called for Mitaka, the Master of the Household, and instructed him to find quarters for Kylo Ren. His compromise between Ren's demands of being housed close (which he begrudgingly admitted were sensible for a bodyguard) and his own desire to see the demon housed in the barn was to give Ren a small suite of rooms usually reserved for some of the more important members of a visiting royal's retinue. They were within the castle proper, closer to the royal residences than the officer's quarters, but far enough away that there was no risk of Ren wandering in whenever he felt like it.

“I do hope this will suit,” he said when he'd reclaimed enough of his composure to bring Ren into the sitting room. The Knight looked incongruous, tall and dark and masked against the rich tapestries on his walls.

“If it is your will that I not fulfill the letter of my own orders from His Imperial Majesty regarding your protection, then I have little choice.”

Hux glared at him. “I believe he also intrusted you to serve me loyally and faithfully, and that means heeding my will.”

Ren was silent for a moment. “Yes.”

“Then the quarters will do.”

“Yes.”

“I'll ignore your lack of understanding of honorifics for now. The Knights of Ren are known to be... unusual in their methods.”

Kylo Ren didn't say anything to that, and when Mitaka showed up to show him to his rooms, he left without a backwards glance.

Hux spent the afternoon reading through and responding to letters. In addition to his political duties he commanded the armies of their kingdom, and while his second was extremely capable and good at her job, Phasma knew he liked to be kept abreast of goings-on. He read her reports with great interest until a page came before him to notify him it was time to prepare for dinner.

There was to be a reception that night; a delegation from the Center had come with both the Imperial decree and Kylo Ren, and it was only proper that they were shown the full hospitality of the house. Hux dressed in full formal wear, made sure the insignia of the house and the new golden circlet were gleaming, and was so satisfied with his appearance that he was only mildly annoyed to see that Kylo Ren had rematerialized in his sitting room, hovering between two armchairs like some kind of overgrown bat.

“I suppose you'll insist on accompanying me at dinner,” he said, leaning in to carefully adjust the collar of his tunic. 

“Unless you compel me to ignore Imperial mandate once more.”

“No, it really wouldn't be polite to so abuse a gift from His Imperial Majesty.” Kylo Ren remained silent on that point, and Hux finished adjusting his tunic and accoutrements and led the way out of his apartments.

The hall this particular fete was being held in had been well-prepared, and when Hux was announced (the _Crown Prince_ title made him straighten a little more) he strode in. Kylo Ren was just visible at the periphery of his vision, hood drawn up so that the silvery accents of his helmet glimmered, reflecting the light of the chandeliers and torches around the hall. A wave of whispering swept through the invited guests and courtiers, and more than one of them gave the Knight appreciative looks as he followed Hux across the room to a food-laden table.

“It seems you'll have no shortage of offers for entertainment,” he said as he loaded his plate with offerings from the kitchens. “If the Knights of Ren engage in such things. I'm sure you'd get even more if you took off that ghastly helmet.”

“The only one a Knight of Ren removes their helmet for is the Master.”

“Pity.” He turned to head to the seat designated for him beside his father, then paused, offering the plate to Kylo Ren with a smirk. “You ought to taste it first. Be sure I'm not being poisoned.”

Ren stared at him, and if he hadn't had the mask Hux would have thought he was on the receiving end of a very displeased scowl. “It is not.”

That made him stop, confused. “How do you know without...?”

There was a half-second pause. “My sorcerous ways,” Ren replied. The deadpan delivery almost made Hux smile.

*

It was difficult to become used to Kylo Ren's constant presence. The Knight was abrasive, blunt, and stuck out like a hulking gargoyle against the splendor of the palace's decorations. He met Hux at the door to his rooms every morning and left him only after pacing the walls like a caged animal.

“You take this assignment quite seriously, don't you?” Hux asked one night while sitting at his writing desk answering correspondence. Now that he was Crown Prince there seemed to be an unending supply of it, including certain offers he'd never thought to entertain before, which seemed an unnecessary distraction from more important matters. His pacing finished for the night, Ren had taken up a post at the doors, leaning against them in a strangely relaxed pose. His face was still concealed by his helm – indeed, he'd been with Hux for several months now, and Hux had yet to see what kind of deformity was hidden underneath that black and silver metal – but he'd grown adept at deciphering what sort of expression was _probably_ being directed at him.

When Ren spoke, even with the modulated sorcery-concealed voice of the helm, his irritation was plain. “Would I be here otherwise?”

“The Emperor could have ordered you to be so... dedicated.”

“Perhaps he did.”

This nettled Hux for some reason, but he pushed it down and set aside the last of his letters to be answered tomorrow.

“I'm retiring for the night,” he said. “Your services are not required until morning. Have my body servant come in to attend me.”

“By your command.” Ren slipped through the door. Inexplicably, Hux caught himself watching the door until his body servant came through it to undress him and prepare the bedchamber. Irritated, he settled in, curling under the embroidered coverlet and dropping into an uneasy sleep.

*

In his chambers, Kylo Ren seated himself cross-legged before the small silver brazier. Of the order he belonged to he was the strongest, but he had to commune with their Master even so; it maintained the link between them and allowed the Emperor to convey orders and receive reports, even when they were separated by thousands of miles.

Lately, though, there had been some kind of block, something making it difficult for him to reach and maintain a connection to Master Snoke. The other Knights he could commune with easily, but their Master seemed to be hidden in a thick mist whenever Kylo Ren used his magic to reach out. He was still there, and yet...

Perhaps, he thought as smoke began to curl from the cedar and yew chips in the brazier, it had something to do with the distraction that had been growing in his mind in the months since he'd come here, a distraction that seemed to broadcast his thoughts and emotions on a wide band for anyone to pick up on. It was immensely intoxicating – Hux _felt_ but did not _express_ , and safely hidden behind his helm, Kylo Ren had taken to parsing out what a given expression actually conveyed, and had found it enthralling.

Gathering his thoughts, he focused back on the ritual. “I am here,” he said, inhaling the smoke. “I listen. I obey.”

_Do you?_

As it had since he was a child, hearing Snoke without seeing him made a chill run down his spine. Kylo Ren's mother was the daughter of a powerful sorcerer, and she herself had more latent ability than half the other Knights, ability which she had passed on to her son. But nothing could have prepared him for the power that was Snoke. “I do, Master. I come to hear your bidding, and to report on the Kingdom of Arkanis.”

_Tell me._

He did so, word-perfect recall making it easy to recount the events of the last month. The rote recitation also made it easy to screen a corner of his mind from Snoke, despite his master's ability to pull information from the minds of others and to enter them at will. There were, he had decided some weeks ago, things about his stay here that Master Snoke did not need to know.

_Do you think he is loyal?_

“Without a doubt, Master Snoke.”

_And his father?_

“The king is careful not to speak overmuch when I am present. I do not have the current authority to accompany the Crown Prince into private meetings with his father.”

_Then I will see to it that you are granted that. An emissary from Imperial Center ought to be afforded more honors, don't you think?_

“I do, Master.” Kylo Ren made himself keep breathing normally as he felt the thin mental finger of his master probing his mind. As it always did, his Master probed the outer edges of the screened-off space, and then withdrew. Until the mental pressure faded and the coals burned down in the brazier, Ren did not dare release the breath he held.

It was not for one of the Knights of Ren to have what he had, feel what he felt, a thing that was powerful enough to rival Snoke's command. For Hux, though, for this insufferable Prince, Kylo Ren would burn the whole of Snoke's empire to the ground if it meant those cool green eyes would look upon him with favor.

 _This is not for you,_ he told himself, and extinguished the last of the coals.

*

Crown Prince Alaric Hux did not drink.

While he had heard that other, less scrupulous members of the court would hie themselves off to one of the unused halls in the palace and continue feasts in a more animal fashion, Hux had never partaken, and thought the whole thing unnecessarily decadent. Leave that to the southern kingdoms, he'd thought, the ones still fighting off the lure of the empire Snoke had built. Let them drown in their own indulgence. Perhaps leaders would rise who saw the wisdom of allying themselves.

But tonight... tonight, he had been pressed by his father to make a circuit of the suitable (interpreted from his father's tone and demeanor as _moneyed, powerful, of the blood_ ) courtiers, male and female, to _make introductions_ (assess their true suitability) and _form partnerships_ (select which ones ought to be on a shortlist of those he may want to court for a consort). His father had handed him a flagon of wine along with these instructions and introduced him to the first of many faces. Hux was familiar with them all, of course; all were landed nobility in Arkanis, all from families who had the means to send their available children to court with all the necessaries, and all were ambitious enough to throw children at a Crown Prince.

He'd needed the wine to get through the first one. Surely it would get easier after that.

It did not.

Even drunk, though, Hux was too determined to appear in control to do so much as miss a step, though he did have to slow at junctions in hallways to determine the right way back to his apartments. With Ren at his back, he felt relatively assured that he would get there in one piece.

“None of them were remotely interesting,” he muttered. “Tedious, the whole lot.”

“Surely you'd want someone tedious.” 

There was an odd quality to Ren's voice tonight, and Hux paused, peering at him, to try and determine its cause. He could not. “If you removed that damn helmet, I'd be able to tell if you were serious or not. Oh, I don't want your speech about only removing it for your master, I really do not _care_ , but I dislike this...” he made an expansive gesture encompassing the general inability for him or _anyone_ to read the wall of black cloth and metal that made up the Knight. “...facade.”

“It's hardly a facade.” Ren made a gesture with his fingertips. “Your apartments are this way.”

“I _know_ where my bed is.”

To prove it, Hux straightened his back and tilted his chin and marched the rest of the way there. The only proof that Ren was following him was the whisper of his robe against the carpeted floor, and even that, Hux thought irritably, was done by design. He got the impression that he was being laughed at, and turned to glare at Ren as he pushed open the door to his apartments. Ren just followed silently, but that itching feeling didn't go away. If anything, it intensified as the Knight followed into his bedroom, going to the fireplace and doing something with a hand that Hux couldn't see. When he stepped back, the flames were licking merrily at the logs, and a moment later the candles in all the sconces sprang to life as well.

“Are you going to attend me?” Hux asked, standing by his bed. By the hearth, the light of the fireplace threw Ren's helmet into shadow, only the silver on it glinting out from the darkness. Something about that sight made his belly constrict, deep down, in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. 

“I'm not your body servant.”

“You are my body _guard._ It might be dangerous for me to go to bed in my boots.”

“I am certain you'll live.”

Hux narrowed his eyes. Drunk or not, he was feeling rather bold, and he disliked the strange crawling feeling that licked up his thighs and down his spine and pooled in the middle. “You are sworn to obey my commands, yes?”

Ren froze, and though it was probably a trick of the light, he thought he saw the Knight's gloved fingers twitch. Perhaps they wanted to close around his ankle, slide off the tall boot. Perhaps they wanted more than that.

“As long as I am here,” Ren said, voice soft. “I am sworn to it.”

“Then attend me.”

There was a long pause, where he thought perhaps the Knight would not comply (and what Hux would do with that crawling, twisting, _yearning_ feeling he had no idea). But then Kylo Ren moved over and knelt before him. Perhaps there was a gleam of an eye behind that screened visor, darker than dark. Hux put one booted foot on the Knight's shoulder.

“Take it off,” he ordered. When Ren did not immediately comply, he shifted, using the toe to raise the Knight's eyes – where they would be, anyway – to look at him. “Careful, Ren. You wouldn't want me to send word to the emperor that you're disobeying my commands.”

“No.”

“Well, then.”

There was something like barely contained fury in the Knight's movements as he pulled off Hux's boots, tossing them carelessly to the floor. Hux stared at them, contemplated the satisfaction he'd gain by ordering Ren to put them away properly, and decided that his need to sleep was going to win out.

“And my jacket?”

Several seconds into this, Hux thought perhaps he had made a mistake. Ren had to move very close to undo the laces here, and he could... Hux could _smell_ his bodyguard, an exotic blend of smoke and spice and the ozone tang of magic, and Hux caught his mouth watering. When Ren had finished and the jacket was open, he shifted, his palms on the bed on either side of Hux. His helmeted face was very close.

“Take off the helmet.”

“No.”

“Gods damn it, Ren—“

“I will not disobey you in anything else,” Ren said, and then he was stepping back, moving away, and the air felt very cold around Hux. “But in this I will. You are drunk, Hux. Go to sleep. I will forget this happened.”

“No, you won't,” Hux mumbled into his pillows when he'd lain down, and then he was asleep.

*

Ren paced his rooms late into the night. He tried to meditate, tried to sleep, but his mind would not settle and his body betrayed him, and he rose again with a snarl, stalking the perimeter of his small set of rooms like a caged beast.

Hux could not know. Hux would never know, and neither would Snoke, and this assignment would eventually end and Ren could go back to the Imperial Center without ever needing to indulge this base desire.

Still, when he settled down to try to meditate again, he found his mind following the thread that ran from that portion he kept screened from his Master. It snaked through corridors and past white-armored guards into the rooms of the Crown Prince, into the bed, into Hux's mind that was a blur of half-formed dreams and thoughts.

Hux was excited too, Ren could feel, and his body fed off it. In his dreams, Hux replayed looking in to Ren's helmet with Ren leaning over him, but in this fantasy he removed the helmet, and even though there was only a shifting blur where Ren's face would be, he didn't need the details to imagine lips on his throat, his jaw, trailing down his chest—

Something else entered the dream, though. It started as a ripple, a dark eddy among the golden light of this fantasy of Hux's, and grew.

Ren's eyes flew open.

*

He had no idea what it was that woke him out of a drunk sleep. Maybe it was a noise, or a sudden shift in his dreaming state, but it seemed like only minutes after he'd closed his eyes he was opening them again. It was still dark, though; the fire had burned down, and the candles had been extinguished. He rolled over, intending to go back to sleep, when someone stepped out of the shadows.

“Who's there?” he demanded, and cursed the roughness of his voice, cursed the wine. “Who are you?”

The shadows shifted, and he saw the person's face now. It was one of the house servants, someone Hux knew he'd seen around his chambers but was anonymous, and now the servant stood beside his bed.

“I'm no one,” he said, and it was only then that he saw the flash of the servant's knife in the dim light. “But my actions will be remembered forever.”

He lunged, and Hux scrambled back against the headboard of his bed. The knife sunk into the mattress, and the would-be assassin cursed, tearing the fabric trying to get his weapon out—

The candles went out.

There was the sound of a struggle, a sharp cry. Then the candles and the fire suddenly blazed brightly, casting Kylo Ren into brilliant shadow.

His sword dripped with blood, seeming to glow red in the light from the fire. Slightly hunched, breathing hard, Kylo Ren stared at the body of the attacker, hacked to pieces on the rug before the fire.

“Ren?”

There were definitely eyes behind that visor; Hux could see them, or thought he saw them, dark and enraged. Sword in hand, Ren stalked over, his boots tracking blood across the rug and the wood floor. He stopped, swaying slightly, standing beside Hux's bed.

Rather unsure, Hux repeated himself. “Ren?”

“Are you all right?”

“What?”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, I wasn't touched, I—what are you _doing?_ ”

The sword hit the rug first, then the helmet, and then Kylo Ren was climbing onto the bed, his face bared for Hux to see. Rather than a scarred monster, he was young, dark hair and darker hair. He did have a scar, though, across his face. It was asymmetrical, interesting. He liked it.

“You're not hurt,” Ren said. His gloved fingers reached out, touched Hux's face, traced the curve of a cheekbone and down over his lips. There was a dead body on the floor beside his bed, his mystic bodyguard was covered in blood and crouched over him, touching his face, and Hux felt incredibly betrayed by his body's reaction to all of this.

“Did you want me to be?”

“If anyone's to hurt you,” Ren said, shifting forward, his hand going to fist in Hux's hair. “It's going to be me.”

Later, after the body had been removed and the bed changed and replaced and all of it done with Hux managing to stand on legs that still shook with remembered pleasure (and he took a certain amount of pride in seeing Ren pretending to lounge in the corner when Hux knew, somehow, he _knew_ it was because Ren was having trouble staying upright as well) they crawled back under the blankets. He snorted at how Kylo had seemed to stroke the sheets for a moment, as if the act of touching something so fine was a kind of pleasure in itself.

“I thought,” Hux said, his eyes closing as Ren's lips brushed his clavicle. “That the Knights of Ren only removed their helmets for their Master.”

Ren's dark eyes locked on his. “We do.”

His hand, big and calloused from swordwork, slipped over Hux's chest and down his abdomen, and Hux tipped his head back as sensation flooded him.

“We are going to be so dangerous together,” he whispered, and then Ren was kissing him, hard and biting, and he said no more.

*

Brendol Hux, King of Arkanis, stalked through the halls of his palace. “When we get to the throne room, secure it against my son's forces. This little insurrection has gone on long enough. Have we heard from the Emperor's men? Have they caught their leader yet?”

“We haven't yet, Your Majesty.”

“Find out what is going on. I want this _stopped_ , do you hear me?”

The doors to the throne room opened before him, and the house soldiers spread out, taking up positions by each column. At the far end were two figures; one, lounging on the throne, and the other standing beside him, sword dripping blood onto the plush red carpet.

“You're being presumptuous, don't you think, Alaric?” Brendol asked, stopping twenty paces from the dais. “I'm certainly not dead.”

From the throne, Alaric Hux looked up as though just noticing his father stood there. “Only a little early,” he said. “I think this rather suits me, don't you?”

“I think you're throwing a tantrum,” Brendol hissed, “Like the child you still are. You may be Crown Prince, but you are not immortal, Alaric, and—“

The Knight beside the throne shifted, his robes flaring as he stepped forward. “Are you threatening him?”

Not for the first time, Brendol cursed ever joining Snoke's empire. He had to deal with magical thugs carrying authority from Imperial Center, and they didn't like being told no; pair the most powerful of them with his son, he should have known it was a recipe for disaster.

“Yes, I am. He is my son, and he is—what is this?”

Six more black-robed figures had stepped out of the shadows. They were each supported by white-armored palace guards, but they weren't facing his son on the throne. 

They were facing him.

Phasma came in, her silver armor gleaming in the light filtering through the stained-glass windows in the throne room. “The palace is secured, Your Majesty. All those who are not loyal to you have been... confined.”

“Well done, Captain.” His son straightened, placing his feet on the floor. “You have our appreciation.”

“Alaric—“

“Quiet him.”

The black-robed figures surged forward, holding his arms and forcing him to his knees. “How _dare_ you!” Brendol shouted, struggling against them, but they were inhumanly strong. One took the crown from his head, another twisted its gloved fingers into his hair and pulled it back. “I am your _king!_ When Snoke's forces get here—“

“Oh, but Father,” Alaric said. “They arrived last night.”

“What?”

His son made a little gesture with a hand. One of the robed figures holding him down giggled.

“Oh,” Brendol muttered. “Oh, _hell._ ”

“I suppose.” His son glanced at the Knight beside him, and the tall man seemed to flicker, disappearing from his place beside the throne and appearing before him in the blink of an eye. The sword was at his throat, but the Knight paused, looking back at his son.

“By your command,” he said, the helmet muffling his voice. 

“Do it.”

*

The guards cleared the body away after Kylo knelt and cleaned his sword on Brendol Hux's tunic. “The King is dead,” he murmured, sheathing his weapon. Then he turned to face Alaric Hux, taking the crown from one of the other Knights as he walked back up to the dais. He held it in his hands, the gold blazing brightly.

“Clear the room,” Ren heard.

Hux was looking up at him. He wasn't smiling, not really, but when Kylo Ren leaned over and kissed him he felt Hux's hand fist in his robes, pulling him in close. When they pulled apart, it was not far, and the air between them was heated and wet. Kylo Ren put the crown on his head, kneeling between Hux's legs.

“Long live Emperor Hux,” he breathed, as the bells in the city outside began to ring out.


End file.
